Abhorrent Practices - Book 1

Chapter 3.2 - The Witch (Scene 2: The Shanties)

Sandrine was first to step through the heavy wooden door of the guard house and out into the small cobbled courtyard beyond. She checked the coast was clear and motioned for Naylor and Alyss to follow.

Alyss shivered against the dampness of the night air. She clutched her arms tightly around her chest, wrapping herself in the thick blue coat which Naylor had taken from one of the guards. Underneath she still wore only her thin chemise and the coarseness of the coat scratched against her bare arms.

"Wherever you're thinking of taking me," she shivered, "I hope it's not far."

Naylor glanced at Sandrine, but she shook her head. This was not the time to reveal the rest of their plan.

"This way," said Sandrine, sprinting into a narrow alley to their left.

Alyss hesitated. As relieved as she was to be out of the cell and away from the brutish attentions of Jeb and Gord, she knew nothing about these people.

"Into the Shanties?"

"No," replied Naylor, flashing her a broad grin as he took her arm. "Just through them."

Through? If they intended to hide her in one of the mansions in Hillside, she could live with that. She'd arrived in Tremayne almost six months ago, and her lodgings were basic at best. If she had to go into hiding, a little luxury for a change might make it almost worthwhile!

Firmly but gently, Naylor steered her into the alley after Sandrine. Like all houses in the Shanty District, the shabby dwellings here were narrow and jostled each other meanly for the cramped space. Halfway down, Naylor took a right turn and led Alyss through to the end of the street. The farther into the Shanties they walked, the darker the streets became. Every door was bolted and barred, and broken wooden shutters had been closed over every window. Tiny pinpricks of amber candlelight winked from between the cracks and knotholes in the wood, like the eyes of countless hidden creatures stalking them in the darkness.

For several minutes they continued to thread their way through the maze of cobbled streets, Sandrine scouting ahead, Naylor and Alyss following only when she signalled to confirm that the streets were empty. They encountered no one but, the longer they spent among the oppressive, dilapidated dwellings of the Shanty District, the more frequently Alyss found herself doubting her rescuers' intentions.

Who was this Sandrine that she would risk her life to free her? She wasn't from Grielle, her pale skin made that much clear, so what was her interest in the Rite of Passing? And this Naylor? What was he? Turlish? Her sense of unease increased with every corner they turned.

The harsh screech of a lone gull clawed at the air somewhere to the west. The docks? If they were near the docks, they were taking a very unusual route to the Hillside.

The houses, she noticed, were taller here than those around the Market District. The overhanging upper storeys leaned inwards, like two rows of drunks, attempting to share a dark, whispered secret, perpetually in danger of collapsing against each other. There were no doors here, just a long wall on either side. Every few feet the aging brickwork bulged like a blister, pregnant with the squalor of the inhabitants' lives on the other side.

In several places water snaked down over the crumbling brickwork, carving channels through the years of accumulated dirt. Thick blotches of moss scabbed over everything.

Alyss stifled a small cry.

"I - I trod on something," she explained, lifting one of her bare feet, and trying to examine the sole.

"Sorry," said Naylor with a sympathetic grin. "None of the guards' boots were your size!"

Already at the far end of the alley, Sandrine had paused to allow them to catch up. Now she pressed herself against the cold, damp brick of the wall to their right and cautiously peered around the corner.